


Archival Studies 101

by Savorysavery



Category: Uglies Series - Scott Westerfeld
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 18:43:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2662421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savorysavery/pseuds/Savorysavery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Pretty Rune thinks learning is bogus, but what happens when her dreams fall through and she has to learn a new way?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Archival Studies 101

* * *

**Summary:** Knowledge Seekers are totally bogus. At least, that’s what Rune thinks until she goes on an adventure.

 **Rated:** T+

 **Genre:** Adventure, Sci-Fi, Fantasy

 

 **Author’s Note:** The clique Glade came about when I realized that anything could become popular enough to gain a solid following. I created it partially so I could install the Awesome Librarian’s clique, crafted by Scott Westerfeld, into the Uglies world via a new Pretty, but I also wanted this “Faction” of it to have its own unique blend. Hence, a world were faery surges are popular and possible all while tech continues to evolve.

 

* * *

 

 

 

If Rune had one thing she constantly thought, it was that anyone who liked knowledge was totally _bogus._

 

Rune was destined to never become a crumbly. She’d live out her days –all of them– in the _best_ clique ever: Glade.

 

Glade was a clique centered around faeries and creatures of the like. Rune had been a fan of them since twelve, when she discovered their magical feeds, showing them celebrating the Summer Solstice on an allotted beach, and their homes tucked into Aphrodite Reserve’s hypoallergenic thicket. They lived in constant fantasy, and Rune wanted to be _just_ like them.

 

When Rune’s birthday – _the_ birthday– came around, she hadn’t even wanted cake, like Noh and Aero had wanted. Instead, she told her crumblies that she wanted to go get her surge speedy quick, not eat cake like some silly ugly would. “Make me pretty” would be her final words even, just like Tally Youngblood had said: after all, bubbly phrases for bubbly new phases.

 

She modded her body, at the ripe age of sixteen, to look like a fairy, keeping her naturally dark, burnt umber skin tone and exaggerating all of her features into elven beauty: long, amaranth pink hair, ruby tattoos on her face that accented a long, sculpted nose, round, proud lips shaped like a perfect bow, and gently pointed ears, making her the picture perfect elf. She’d even extended her height, shooting up from five-two to well over six feet. But best of all were her eyes: vividly banana yellow, and the icing on her cake.

 

(She hoped Glade had cake, and lots of it. She wanted to abuse her pretty stomach with all the sweets she could, even though she knew she’d never get a stomach ache ever again.)

 

When Rune woke up and saw herself for the first time, she was _perfect_. “Do you like it?” a nurse had asked, a gently smile on her crumbly lips.

 

“I look so bubbly,” Rune had whispered. A tear rolled down her perfect cheeks. “Like totally stellar.” The nurse had agreed, patting her hand with a crumbly kind of reassurance.

 

After that, she’d been taken to the edge of Aphrodite Reserve, a large area of preserved land on the edge of Prettyville, leaving her with only herself and a new set of clothes: jeans and a form-fitting t-shirt that accented the swell of her new breasts –size 38D, just like Rune had requested– and the curve of her hips.

 

“Hello?” Rune called. She was in the glade, surrounded by trees and sounds and brand new sensations.

 

 _Rustle_. A few bushes on her left sounded, and she turned. “Hello?”

 

“Hello there…” The voice paused, and a figure rose up: a girl with blue skin, finned ears, and a undercut that met with a seaweed green Mohawk. To Rune’s embarrassment, she was nude, revealing that hair elsewhere was that same green. “Ah, Rune-la, our newest initiate. Welcome to our home. I am Tear, our resident mermaid.”

 

Tear stepped through the bushes, revealing two long, perfect legs. She placed a hand on her hip and smiled, and Rune could see her eyes –dark red and haunting– overlay with screens. “We’ve been expecting you. I’ll take you to our village.”

 

Together, Rune and Tear walked in relative silence, crunchy through leaves and following a well-worn path of packed earth. Rune drank it in: the truly fresh pine, the bubbly, babbling brook –as she later learned, it led to Tear’s aquatic home and the fresh water for the village– and the feeling of _magic_. She liked the taste of that retro word ever since she’d discovered it in an Rusty book. Something Potter and the… well, names didn’t matter now.

 

“So, how far to the village, Tear-la?” Rune chanced.

 

“Ah, a curious elf,” Tear teased. “You are an elf, correct?”

 

“Yes, yes,” Rune answered, smiling. Her glistening, teeth flashed with her wide smile.

 

“A quite pretty one,” Tear added. “If you get in, you’ll make a great addition.” That made Rune’s heart race, and in that moment, she pledged to be the best elf she could be. “Ah, we’re here.”

 

The thicket opened up, revealing a slope down to a myriad of buildings. It looked right out of a Rusty storybook: buildings forming circles around each other, and making up the ten, wide paths that led around the village. “It’s so much bigger than I thought,” Rune whispered.

 

“It’s a city just for us. Let’s go to the inn. It’s where you’ll stay until your complete initiation.” Tear waved her on and the walked down the hill, until they were at the edge of the village.

 

“This is called the Market Ward. It’s the first of the five rings, and is where all of our food, shops, and merchants are.” It all sounded so exotic to Rune: no more walls with their tech know-how. Now, she’d have to _buy_ things, instead of gaining merits. “The Ruby is located just this way, down Grass Lane.”

 

They turned right and headed down to a large, wooden building. “Is that _real_ wood?” Rune exclaimed. She hadn’t seen a real wood building except for in the slides that the teachers showed during Rusty History classes. It was a bit appealing to see such a waste of natural material, all for a two story building.

 

“No, it’s smart matter,” Tear clarified. “We’re _faeries_ , not Rusty monsters.” Tear giggled and nodded. “Enter.”

 

The Inn – The Ruby, Rune recalled– was warm: smart fire heated the area, safe to the touch, but just as warm as a real, Rusty flame, and the smell of hearty, fatty foods made the air smell delicious. “I’ll be right back,” Tear said, motioning towards a few tables. Rune seated herself at one, relaxing.

 

A few patrons sat in the Inn. Rune shouldn’t be surprised: though a smaller clique, Glade still boasted over a hundred people, enough to run this village and have a diverse crowd of magical creatures. One caught her eye: a green skinned pixie with a dark green tattoos of leaves that seemed to shift every few second, like they were being blow by the wind. She looked like Fall, all oranges and red and browns, like the leaves outside right now.

 

The pixie noticed her too, turning her head, letting a tumble of grass green locks fall over her shoulders. “Hey there. You new?”

 

Rune nodded eagerly, chewing her lip anxiously: ugly habits die hard. “I just turned sixteen a week ago.”

 

“Ah, fresh from the ward,” the girl said, tossing her hair again. “I’m Nox. Nice to meet you.” Rune dipped her head, and smiled, and the girl turned back around.

 

Soon –thankfully– Tear returned, this time with a pale woman with soft, brown eyes and blonde hair that fell to her hips. “Hello, Rune-la. I am Gala, one of the founders of Glade and the owner of The Ruby. It’s nice to meet you.” Rune was intimidated: Gala spoke like crumblies, with a reassuring voice and in an odd, Rusty rustic way. It didn’t help that Gala looked older than most pretties: she looked like a late Pretty, all responsible and mind cleared. Rune liked it though, and she could tell she’d like Gala.

 

“It’s nice to meet you too, Gala-wa,” Rune replied. She giggled nervously. “You look so…”

 

“Human?” Gala supplied. Rune nodded bashfully. “It’s because I am a Leanan Sidhe,” she said, exaggerating the syllables. “They appear to be human, but are very pretty-making.” Rune agreed: she was _stellar_ pretty-making.

 

“I like the village a lot.”

 

“Good, good. Tear tells me you’ll be my guest here for a while, until you pass our initiation, right?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Totally bubbly,” Rune said. “I’ve never stayed in an inn.”

 

“Well, I hope you’ll like it,” Gala said, smiling. “One of our staff will bring you a menu. I’ll go finish fixing up your room.” She nodded and disappeared through a doorway and up a set of stairs.

 

A waiter came, dropping down a menu. “Hello!” He had a mess of carrot orange hair, and a pipe stuck out the corner of his mouth. He didn’t really _look_ magic-making: in fact, he just looked like a super pretty Pretty, with all the max limits of the traditional surge. “I’m a Gancanagh,” he started. “We’re supposed to look like humans.” He didn’t stop to explain, like Rune was expected to know what that was. She didn’t of course, but it’d be super awkward-making to ask further.

 

“We serve food from the Rusty medival times,” he said. “That’s back when Rusties didn’t even have cars, and had to use horses and tons of wood for cars that were pulled by them. They were all smelly-making too, but trust me, we’re not nasty-making here at all.” He winked, urging the menu towards her.

 

Indeed, the food was all stuff Rune had never heard of: tankards, mead mutton, patridge, and buckwheat. It made her head spin and her eyescreen go crazy, so she quickly just pointed at something that sounded good: Roasted crab and blue cheese, with a tankard of this mead stuff. The waiter –Cross, as Rune learned– smiled and left, going into the kitchens.

 

Rune took the moment between him leaving and returning to think. This was a big step: she’d have to publicly declare what type of magic being she chose tonight and would start initiation tomorrow. After a month, she’d be inducted and would join Glade for the rest of her time, until her late two hundreds, rumors said. She’d remain eternally youthful, trapped at sixteen forever until she retired her body.

 

It would be totally stellar and wonder-making.

 

Rune figured she’d go into some type of totally fun-making craft: maybe blowing glass and making trinkets for the clique, or maybe even Rusty sewing. Whatever she’d do, it’s be fun-making and totally bubbly: nothing bogus like books or boring-making knowledge. She’d had enough of that as an ugly. Now, she’d live it up for the next few hundred years.

 

“Here’s lunch.” Cross dropped a large, ceramic plate before her. It was heaped with crab legs, smelling of spices and herbs, and a large chunk of blue cheese, threaded with indigo veins of mold. “I included the bread as a welcome,” he said, pointing at the huge hunk f bread. “And the mead, for the lady elf.” He set down a large, wood-looking mug  – _Ah, a tankard_ , Rune realized, at the same time her data channel did– with honey gold liquid inside.

 

“Thanks,” she said, and he nodded, leaving her to eat. Rune tried the mead first, finding that the deep, honey taste made her think of the cereal she used to eat as a child. It was sweet, and seemed to stick in her throat as it oozed down. Next she went after the crab legs: seafood was rare in her city, so she’d never had it, but when she bit in, she _wished_ she had always had it. The crab meat was so juicy and tender, and the roasting had made it take on a more meaty flavor. When she mixed it with a large crumble of blue cheese, she found she liked it even more: the contrast of the bitter cheese with the hearty meat made her only hungrier.

 

To her surprise, Rune finished everything. She forgot how hungry the surgery made you: after all, you were only fed nutrients while you were under the knife. No crab, cheese, or bread at all. Cross took her plate, teasing her big appetite. “Oh, play nice,” Gala called, crossing the room. Cross rolled his eyes and left, chuckling. “I’ve prepared your room. Here’s your key.” She held out a slim card and Rune took it, pocketing it. “Now, we must get you dressed for your announcement ceremony.”

 

“Oh, finally!” she exclaimed. Gala smiled and passed her back off to Tear, who was waiting near the door.

 

“See you soon!”

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s perfect!” Rune was twisting and turning in front of a long mirror, clad in new clothes:  a long sleeved, high collar tunic in a dark pink that accent her pink hair, and pale, khaki pants that tied at the front. She stepped into a pair of dark brown slippers, and felt like these threads _had_ to be magic-making. “I look like an elf!”

 

“You _are_ an elf,” Tear reminded her, turning to the storeowner: a dryad named Hana. They smiled, clasping hands with Rune.

 

“How perfect,” Hana said, brown eyes shining. “It is yours for your time here.” They made a sign with their hands and shooed Rune out. “Don’t be late to your ceremony!”

 

Rune was rushed off past three new paths: Mushroom Way, Silk Road, and Craft Avenue. She barely could take in the slew of stores and home, what with Tear hard-tugging her wrist so much. When they arrive at the center, in an open plaza with smart matter stone bricks, Rune was breathless. “Up on the dias,” Tear ordered.

 

“Dias?” Rune repeated.

 

“The platform, bubblehead.” Rune nodded and stepped forward, climbing up onto the raised platform.

 

Gala and two other people  –the famed Spike, a harpy inspired by a male Peacock and Obi, an Inari with nine blonde tails, each of which was writhing eagerly: both were leaders of Glade and two-thirds of the founders of the clique– were standing their, waiting for Rune. “Welcome to your ceremony,” Gala intoned.

 

“Glade was made for everyone to create a community based around fantasy. Here, we live like fairytales, and work together to make a world we can all live in. Many of us were Naturals or Rangers as one time, but because of our love of other worlds, we created this group.” Gala paused, letting everyone drink in her words. “And today, we welcome a new Pretty who wants to join our world.”

 

Spike stepped forward, feathered plumage trailing behind him. “State your name.” Rune knew what this meant: the name she’d want to be called for the rest of her life.

 

“Rune,” she answered. She had already decided to keep her original name. No bogus changes.

 

Obi followed, stepping up on Gala’s left. “State your race.”

 

This was harder. Rune was a generic elf right now, but now, she had the chance to actually figured out what _kind_ of elf she’d be. She’d even done research on some old, revived Rusty nerd sites: people had created tones of subspecies, and now, Rune could

 

“I…” Rune paused. _Yes,_ she said, encouraging herself. _I’m sure now_. “I am a Wood Elf.” She felt a spike of glee and she smiled. “I am Rune, the Wood Elf!” Applause rose from the gathered crowd, and she repeated it again and again, spinning around.

 

“Welcome, Rune-la, to Glade, and the first day of your initiation.


End file.
